The Russian Revolution
by kisforkralie
Summary: "One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes a revolution in order to establish a dictatorship." -George Orwell. A Hetalia Fanfiction telling the events of the Russian Revolution. WARNINGS: Some detail of a bit of gore and violence in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_"One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes a revolution in order to establish a dictatorship."_

 _-George Orwell_

* * *

 **THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

 _ **March 13, 1881**_

Ivan didn't even feel sick at the sight of the Czar's mutilated body. He didn't feel sick at the damage it would be for him and the Empire. He didn't feel sick at the blood coating his hands or the blood that trickled down his face by the blast of the explosion.

He felt sick because once again, blood was spilt, and more heartache would fill his already damaged soul.

The blood of royalty coated his hands, the sickly smoke of smoke filling his lungs, ash from what was a bullet-proof carriage gifted by Napoleon the Third. It had proven quite useful given the countless assassination attempts that the Czar had faced. It had protected him for the longest time.

But this time he wasn't so lucky.

The Czar's head rested in his lap, splatters of blood staining Ivan's pants and blouse. The Czar couldn't move his legs - no - what was _left_ of his legs. That was only one detail of the horrific scene. A sickly gash laid embedded in his stomach, his face mutilated and smeared with blood. Silently, Ivan used the sleeve to wipe the blood off of the royal's face, something to make him look the slightest bit human. Something that didn't look monstrous. This appeared like damage only the demons of hell could inflict. The was damage that was inhuman. But this was the result of man and technology; an explosive and two men from a revolutionary group, one that thought if they could take out the very top, the system would be paralyzed, the system would fall; Narodnaya Volya.

The People's Will.

The Czar gasps for breath were nothing more but useless rasps; the Czar felt as though his lungs were about to collapse. Ivan pushed out the horrified screams of his people, pushed out the sounds of raging flames, his eyes shut peacefully as he tried to soothe his dying Czar. He would feel hurried footsteps rush towards him, Ivan's eyes fluttering open, averting his eyes to two royal soldiers gazing down at the two, horrified at the damage inflicted upon the Czar. Ivan stared blankly, his violet eyes glazed.

"We need to get him to the Winter Palace." Ivan gave a mournful look to the dying Czar.

"Our Czar is dying."

* * *

The Romanovs could barely lay their eyes upon him. The only one was the Czarina, the only one that mustered the courage to grasp the hand of her dying husband. The Czarina of the Russian Empire was mortified, she was wordless. This was it. She was going to be a widow.

Ivan noted the dread that was given on the successor of the Czar. His name too was Aleksandr, after his father.

It was good that Aleksandr the Second died at the right time. Perhaps this Aleksandr wouldn't be as bad as his father; declaring war on the Ottoman Empire and the Qin Dynasty. And this Aleksandr, he vowed to never even let the same fate befall him.

Ivan's violet eyes blinked, his gaze reverting to what was now the lifeless shell of the Czar. The Czar's personal flag was now being lowered from the top of the palace. Chances were people were gathering, watching the flag being lowered.

The Czar of Russia was dead and Aleksandr would become his successor.

Ivan was unfazed by the death of the czar. Why should he care? This was another phase of his life. Czar upon Czar upon Czar. It was like a circle. Never-ending. It was never-ending for over three centuries. The czars had hurt him enough. He had stopped apologizing in crisis that the Czars blame him for. He had stopped apologizing **in** a war he didn't cause. He had stopped apologizing in a massacre he didn't cause. Yes, there were many Czars that understood. Yekaterina was one of them, she understood everything. She never expected Ivan to apologize for something he had no part in. But the other czars... why? Because he was a monster?

He never knew why he did the things he did. He never knew why he had blood coating over his hands and standing among the bodies of men who died for their nation's sake. He never knew why he resorted to violence. He apologized for that every time. But he stopped apologizing years ago because of what people learned about him. They stopped forgiving them. Now that he thought about it -

They had never even apologized to him to begin with.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ The history of my nation is really a rich one. It is one of hardship and victory. It has always seemed like Russia has suffered from crisis to begin with. So far, the period in history that interests the most in the Russian Revolution, events in Russian history that led up to the creation of the United Soviet Socialist Republic and the first Communist state, one that I was born in the aftermath in, but something that my mother and grandmother had lived in.

On a historical note, the events of the Revolution first began to build up with the assassination of Czar Alexander the Second, or as I know him, Aleksandr Nikolaevich. He is one of the most significant Czars in the Romanov Dynasty, given that his assassination marked the Revolution. However, another event could've started the first moments of the Revolution, but I see this as something that motivated Vladimir Lenin. A personal battle between Lenin and the Romanov Family.

The future Lenin's family was the Ulyanov's, nobles in Russia that had a son who they called Sasha. Sasha and a group made a bomb, trying to assassinate Aleksandr. From what I know, Aleksandr was a very humble man, having said, 'Those who repent I will reprieve; those who will not repent I will hang.' Sasha would say, and I quote: "I'll be going against my principles if you ask me to repent." And so he was hung.

Aleksandr the Third was known to be a tough man in Russian history, and yes, his father's death made him vow to never let him fall victim to the assassination his father was victim to. As for the assassination, it is like Russia's 9/11. The newspapers after the events when into full detail, often describing Aleksandr the Second's death as a 'wound inflicted on the body of the state.'

But yeah, I am deciding to write some more historical fanfiction, so, prepare for a lesson and some hell.

 **Update 7/9/17:** Whoops. Accidently confused Aleksandr the III with Nikolai the II.


	2. Chapter 2

_"I am not yet ready to be czar. I know nothing of the business of ruling."_

 _\- Czar Nikolai the Second of Russia_

* * *

 **THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

The coronation never should've happened, Ivan realized, watching at the new Czar was crowned in front of his eyes. He hardly received any training and was expected to become czar of Russia when he was twenty years older, something the Romanovs had anticipated. Ivan wished that Aleksandr the Third passed earlier in Nikolai's life that way they would have a boy czar; one that wouldn't be able to make decisions under ten years later. Or another way, in which Aleksandr passed later on that way Nikolai could've receive more training, could've grown up a bit.

Aleksandr had always scolded the boy for acting like a girl, often leaving Nikolai wondering if he was a disappointment to the family. However, Nikolai was far worse than his father knew. Far, far worse. He was infantile, something that was unlike his father. Ivan saw him completely unfit for the crown, he felt like Nikolai was utterly, utterly useless. He felt as though as soon as Nikolai dictated a decision, his rule would immediately go off to a bad start. Even Natalia and Katyusha agreed with him.

He was right.

But he wished he wasn't.

* * *

The park was rather large and vast, one that would've been built for the sole purpose of holding large crowds... but this crowd was too big. Natalya Arlovskaya felt as though she was about to be crushed by the Russians around her, hell, she barely felt she could breathe. _How the hell did I get caught in the crowds?_ Natalya mused, rubbing her arm uncomfortably given the small space she had. _I don't even want to get a coronation mug or goods in general._

"Wait. I just got word that they may not have enough for the rest of us." Natalya could hear a woman murmur to a man. Natalya's pale blond hair whipped around as she cocked her head to the commotion, an eyebrow raised as the citizens began to spread what Natalya assumed was a 'rumor'. Shaking her head, she gently pushed men, women, and children out of her way, muttering a quick, "Excuse me," while she did.

The Belorussian nearly fell to the ground as she felt a man shove her out of the way, shoving others and he pushed towards the front. She scoffed at his rudeness, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation. She stumbled to the right as she felt herself being shoved again, a grunt escaping her lips. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed civilians rushing to the front. They were going to crush people, given how many of them were pressing towards the front. Natalia's eyes wandered to the back. That had to be by far the safest place from the crowds. Forcing herself back, she pushed aside Russians, using her best to get to the back as quickly as possible. Without harming anyone, of course.

At first, the crowds moved a quick pace, now, the crowds were now sprinting to the front, pushing their people aside in order to be one of the first to the front. People were being crushed and before Natalia knew it, the life was lost by Russians trampling over the poor soul. Now, Natalya was panicking, narrowly dodging the rushing civilians. Her skin was paler than usual, her brain beating against her skull, her heart was beating out of her chest. Natalya yelped as she lost her balance when a person bumped straight into her, her foot slipping. Her head smacked against the solid surface of the street, something that nearly rendered the Belorussian unconscious. The pain throbbed in the back of her head. To top it all off, she gasped for breath as she felt a foot stomp into her stomach, the air escaping her lungs.

Another foot harmed her, however, the foot collided with her head. As soon as it hit the surface of her head, Natalya was rendered unconscious, leaving her victim to the press that would kill hundreds.

* * *

"Where's Natalya?"

Katyusha eye scanned the French Embassy, her brilliant blue eyes reflecting the worry she felt. Eduard von Bock shrugged his shoulders, clueless to where the youngest sister to Katyusha was. "If I am not mistaken, I believe she was going to walk here, right?"

"Yes, I think she was." For a moment, Katyusha felt relieved, only for her to be filled with dread once more. She loved whom she called her _detskaya sestra_ , ('baby sister' to English speakers) after all, she, Natalya, and Ivan have all been through so much. She was practically the only mother figure in their lives back when they were called the Kievan Rus, Qulan perhaps being the exception given the harshness but somewhat of a kindness she showed to Ivan and Natalya. "But, she left the coronation at the Winter Palace, saying that she would take a different way to the Embassy, perhaps to think. It shouldn't be taking her so long. And it's cold. She may get frostbite."

A snort came from Eduard. He always found it silly how Katyusha would worry about her sister, despite that Natalya was hundreds of years old. "Honestly, she has been in Saint Petersburg and Moscow many times. I'm sure she knows how the climate is."

"True, true..." Katyusha cocked her head, trying to find her brother in the room, out of confusion of course. "Wait. Where is Ivan?" Before she even got an answer, she turned away from the Estonian, her feet at a quick pace. _First Natalya, now Ivan._ Katyusha tried to avoid anyone who was in her way. _Where are they?_

A victory in one area, a fail in another. Katyusha turned into a hall, sighing in relief at the sight of her brother sitting there. Her once relieved blue eyes were now full with worry. Ivan at first glance didn't seem alright at all. He, of all people, appeared in pain. Slowly, Katyusha approached her younger brother, sliding down the wall to join him. After a moment of silence, she tried to engage in a conversation with him. Something to see what was wrong. "Hey. Ivan? Ivan? Are you alright?"

Ivan didn't even bother to answer. "Ivan." She softened her tone of voice, feeling as though it was a bit too firm. "Ivan?"

"Something happened in Khodynka."

Katyusha felt her heart rise up into her throat. _This... this can't be good._ Her thought was mournful; after all, it had to be something that was quite horrifying... or tragic. Wordlessly, Katyusha laid a hand gently on her brother's shoulder, something that could comfort him, even in the slightest. "I've heard that there was supposed to be a celebration in Khodynka, a celebration for the people." Ivan suppressed a shudder. "Word passed around that there wouldn't be enough goods for the rest of the people. The crowd pressed to receive their goods, but it turned to be absolutely horrific. They say people were trampled to death." Ivan muttered the last sentence, speaking the words as though it was poison to his tongue.

Katyusha blinked before wrapping her arms around her brother. Ivan's shoulders slumped as he finally felt his muscles loosen at the hug that his sister gave. But that didn't last for long; only more panic would arise.

Katyusha closed her eyes. _Khodynka.._ A sudden gasp escaped the Ukrainian's mouth.

She released her arms, a terrified expression on her face. She shot up onto her feet, and rushed away as swiftly as she could. For a moment, Ivan was confused. He got up himself, following after Katyusha. "Katyusha?" Ivan kept up Katyusha's pace. His confusion was replaced with distress as he regarded the shaking of Katyusha's hand. She was violently shaking.

"Natalya." Katyusha blurted out, buttoning up her coat as quickly as she could. Her eyes were glazed, her eyes narrowed. Blood lacked in her face. Ivan was breathless. What was she saying? "I - " Katyusha gulped uneasily. "I think I know what happened to her. _Oh God, I never should've allowed her to walk to the Embassy all on her own_."

"What are you saying?" Ivan anticipated her reply.

He already knew the dreadful answer.

" _Pray that she didn't get caught in the stampede_." With that Katyusha left, running out of the room. Ivan was left dumbfound. For a moment, his muscles remained rigid. Then he dashed off to follow Katyusha.

* * *

A shaky breath.

Natalya Arlovskaya rasped, her body incredibly numb. Her legs, stomach, arms - they all felt battered. Natalya could taste what could be the taste of blood in her mouth. A sickly aroma filled her nostrils; a smell Natalya wished she never breathe again. Slowly, her head tilted over to her left hand, her fingers twitching in order to gain what little feeling she had left in her limbs. Natalya's teeth grit together as she arched her back, shakingly using one hand to force herself to sit up. To even make a fist was a challenge.

Her lungs felt ruptured, her body feel as though her muscles and limbs were tight. She got onto her hands and knees despite the unwavering pain she felt, however, she has felt worse. Her heart rose at the horrifying sight around her... so many dead. Some were still breathing but their bodies were so brutalized that were rendered unmovable. The Belorussian limped across the square, trying to ignore the fact her body was almost entirely bruised and injured. She struggled to step over bodies but after a few moments she had to walk around them. She didn't have the energy to step over them. She just felt so.. weak. She felt as though her strength was degraded.

Natalya's heart leapt at two familiar voices, despite them being low given distance.

"Natalya.. where's Natalya?" A soft, male voice was full of worry.

"Natalya?!" Another voice joined in. "Wait - I think I see her! Natalya!"

Natalya finally burst; she sank to her knees, a mournful sob escaping her lips. She didn't even bother to give a glance at her brother and sister. So many people. Dead. Women, children - all dead. Same event, different year. Ivan and Katyusha rushed to their sibling's side. Katyusha brung an arm around her sister's shoulders; Natalya in response immediately wrapped her arms around her sister, sobbing into her shoulder. Natalya almost forgot what it was like to cry.

Katyusha held her sister, her terrified eyes resting on the tradegy around her. "Oh my God.." Katyusha said, her voice barely a whisper. "Oh my God.."

Ivan, whom was resting hand on Natalya's shoulder, shook his head. "God didn't do this." Ivan's violet eyes laid on the bodies.

Already, Nikolai's rule was at a horrific start.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ So, I don't really portray Belarus as a bitter being as I see most fanfics portray her. I have a headcanon that she holds back her true emotions for good reason and she tries not to show happiness because she is afraid that if something happens that she will eventually be in a dark place in her life, or, you could think of it as being not showing her emotions to a potential enemy in order to make them perceive she cannot be easily broken. The only time when she shows her emotions is when she is ready to burst out in tears or something that is hilarious she can't hold back.

On a historical note, the Khodnyka Tragedy was something that darkened the celebrations of the new Czar, Nikolai. On the same day of the Khodnyka Tragedy, there was a party at the French Embassy. Nikolai didn't want to go but was pressured to, thus, why he went. The Czar and Czarina weren't alerted right away, but, given Ivan does represent Russia I do believe he knows when such tragedies will occur. This also affected Nikolai's image, something he wasn't counting on on his bid to be popular among the people.

As said in the chapter, the Khodnyka Tragedy was a human stampede. Over 1,300-1,500 were killed during the press for their goods.

Please review! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter of the fanfiction!


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